


You're Back

by veranda



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Making Up, Post Long Separation, Pre movie, Razor - Freeform, Shaving, depilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9534047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veranda/pseuds/veranda
Summary: Baze comes home one day, and helps Chirrut out with some, *ahem*, personal grooming.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this fic on whoever keeps posting shirtless Donnie Yen pics on Tumblr. Gah! I'm trying to finish a long fic here people, got no time to be distracted by this. Anyway, here's another shorty, so that I can refocus on sad elves.

When Chirrut walks into his apartment, he senses that it is not the way he had left it.  It feels more crowded; there is a scent in the air that is not his.

Familiar, though.

"Chirrut."

Chirrut places his staff next to the door and folds his hands in front of him.

"You're back."  He is unsure how to feel.  Relieved?  Furious?  Ecstatic?  Indignant?

\----

Baze cooks dinner for them.  He moves around the kitchen as if he knows it well.  Quiet, as always.  Chirrut cannot see it, but he knows the expression on Baze's face, the one he always wears when they are fighting.  Grim, mouth turned down.  The same one he probably had on when he left, _ten years ago_.

Flatbread, with meat.  Baze must have had a good run off system, if he is able to buy non-synthetic protein.  Chirrut eats quickly, with large bites, since this kind of meal is not normal, cannot be taken for granted.  Some juices run off his lips and his brings his napkin up to wipe his mouth.  He feels Baze's hand brush his face, to dislodge some crumbs that are clinging to his beard.  Chirrut swallows.

\---

That night Chirrut doesn't sleep.  He sits by the door until dawn, feigning anger at Baze's gall, that he would dare to come home like nothing had happened, like he didn't abandon Chirrut.  But the truth is he is scared he'll miss it again.  Baze is a big man, but has proven he can slip out in the middle of the night, silent as a cat.

\---

"Did you hang up your towel?" 

Baze grunts in reply.  Does that mean yes?  Chirrut feels around the bathroom floor with his foot, expecting to encounter a crumpled wet towel.  Satisfied that the towel was indeed hung up, he steps in the shower and hopes that Baze left him some hot water.

"I brought your stool."  Baze warns when Chirrut turns off the water. 

Chirrut dries off and wraps his towel around his waist.  He feels for Baze's hand, and lets himself be led over to the stool.  Baze tips his chin up and places a warm, wet washcloth over his mouth.

"This might take a while, your hair is long."  Baze exhales through his nose and pauses.  "Sorry."

Chirrut wills his tears to remain unshed. 

Once the washcloth is removed, Baze massages a creamy lotion over his cheeks, his upper lip, any place there is facial hair.  Chirrut hears the razor open, dip into a bowl of water.  He holds his breath. 

Baze's hand is steady and gentle.  Slowly, with precision, all of Chirrut's beard and stubble are scraped off.  Chirrut can do this himself, and he does occasionally, but as unwilling as he is to admit it, it's tricky and he cuts himself often.  He also tends to discover a day later that he has missed a patch here or there, which is worse than letting it all grow out.

He feels Baze's fingers pass over his neck, over his Adam's apple, checking his work.  Chirrut reaches up to catch those fingers, but as always it seems, he is a step behind and Baze has moved on to cleaning the razor.

"Baze, will you help me with the rest?"

He doesn't answer, and Chirrut thinks that it may have been too soon to ask that much of him.  He runs his hand over his jaw, smoother than it has been for a decade.  To him, having a shaved face has always meant cleanliness.  Purity.  He relearns the softness of his own skin,  and relishes how much more he can feel without a layer of hair in the way.  He wishes Baze would brush crumbs off his face again, so he can appreciate the gesture more fully this time.

Baze is pouring out and rinsing the bowl of water he was using.  Chirrut knows he isn't even looking in his direction, so he sighs and stands up, ready to get dressed. 

"It will be easier if you lie down.  I'll be in there soon, just need to wait for the water to heat up."

Chirrut's stomach tenses, and he makes his way to the bedroom and lays down. Baze follows after a few minutes and sets down the same bowl on a small table and sits. He unfastens Chirrut's towel, coaxes open his legs. The same lotion as before is applied to his pubic area, where his thighs meet his groin, and over his testicles. It never took much, and Chirrut has been untouched for so long, so his cock is turgid before Baze unfolds the razor. Baze thumbs the head of his penis thoughtfully before grasping his genitals at the base and pulling gently to stretch the skin before bringing the blade over it. Again and again, Baze repeats the thumbing, grasping and pulling sequence before each pass of the razor. It takes all of Chirrut's concentration to refrain from bucking into the air, lest he becomes injured in a most delicate place, but he allows himself to sigh and groan at his mounting pleasure.

"Hold still, now."

Baze cups his testicles in one hand, rubbing and fondling them lightly, testing Chirrut's ability to follow commands. Chirrut's hands reach up and grab the pillow under his head and he focuses on their grip. The skin on his balls is pulled taut in many directions, the razor unhurriedly combing over them in short strokes. Too soon, in Chirrut's mind, they are stretched for the last time and a warm washcloth is draped over them.

A hand under each knee indicate the next step. Chirrut pulls his hands away from the pillow to hold his thighs to his chest. Large, calloused hands stroke down those thighs, once. Twice. Lotion is smeared down his crack, with special attention paid around his asshole.  He feels the scrape of the blade over it, and his cock twitches. Chirrut steadies his breath.  Baze knows to draw this part out, to tease Chirrut into madness. He waits after each pass, to see if any moisture beads at the tip of Chirrut's penis, and will only reward him with another drag if there is.

Then, it is done. The razor is dropped into the bowl, and Baze goes over the newly depilated skin with the washcloth that was on his balls. Chirrut's disappointment is visible in his leaking cock, and he wants to ask Baze to keep touching him, but he is not in a position to demand. He starts to let go of his legs. Baze pushes them back up, grips his dick, then slides a finger in his asshole. That's all it takes for Chirrut to climax with a yelp.

He hears more lube being squeezed - _that presumptuous bastard brought it with him to the bed_ , Chirrut thinks - and now there is something larger than a finger nudging at him. Baze presses steadily in, pausing every few seconds to let Chirrut relax and acclimate his body. Once he is fully sheathed, he starts to pull back but Chirrut is not letting him. Baze is pulled down, Chirrut's legs wrap around his back and his hands grip his shoulders. They kiss, for the first time in too long. Baze's lips are a little chapped, so Chirrut runs his tongue over them to soothe away the dryness. He allows his mouth to be explored, then reciprocates in kind. It takes many more kisses for Chirrut to be sated, until he is able to loosen his grip so that Baze can thrust into him unhindered. Just as Chirrut is losing himself again to pleasure, he hears Baze husk out his orgasm, then feels him collapse onto him. Chirrut folds him into a tight embrace.  They hold each other until their chests stop heaving.

"Why?" Chirrut whispers.

"I missed you. There has never been anyone else for me, and I realized there will never be," Baze answers simply, though much hangs unsaid.

The tears Chirrut have been holding at bay release, and his body is overcome by gasping sobs. He manages to choke out, "Forgive me."

"Always, my love, always."


End file.
